“Not after a few shots of Jägermeister, you don’t.”

Dylan sighed. “Good point.” He glanced at Cash. “How about I become your sponsor? You know, like AA-type shit. I’ll help keep you in line.”

“So you’ll strap on the chastity belt for him?” Seth cracked.

Dylan ignored the remark. “Whenever you’re tempted to unzip your pants, just call me and I’ll talk you out of it. I’ll even check in with you every few hours and give you gruesome facts about what it’s like to drown, as an incentive not to piss off the LT.”

Cash had to laugh. “You’re a good friend.”

“You know it.”

The trio caught up with Ryan and Jackson at the water’s edge, kicked off their sneakers and waded into the water. Cash welcomed the initial rush of cool relief as he submerged himself, but it wasn’t long before he was sweating again. The two-mile swim was one he could do in his sleep with one arm tied behind his back, but damn, it was sweltering hot out today.

A throb had built in his temples by the time they staggered back to shore, but he felt more relaxed than he had in days. He loved hanging out with his boys. The camaraderie they’d formed during BUD/S training had only grown stronger over the years, which was a bit of a shock considering how different they all were. Dylan, the California boy with his preppy clothes and natural charisma. Tough guy, chain-smoking, chip-on-his-shoulder Seth. Jackson, with his sweet-talkin’ ways and good ol’ boy charm. Ryan and the others were great too, but those friendships didn’t come close to rivaling the tight-knit bond he’d formed with his three fellow rookies.

“Don’t forget,” Dylan murmured before they parted ways in the parking lot ten minutes later. “Your sponsor is only a phone call away.”

Grabbing a towel from the back of Ryan’s Jeep, Cash dried his dripping wet chest and said, “That’s actually kinda reassuring.”

Dylan grinned. “She’s really gotten under your skin, huh?”

He let out a heavy breath. “You don’t know the half of it.”

 

Jen was curled up in one of the recliners clicking through online job ads on her laptop when Cash lumbered into the apartment. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of all that hotness. The sweaty T-shirt pasted to his chest emphasized every hard ridge and ripple of his broad torso, and since he hadn’t shaved before leaving this morning, dark stubble covered his strong jaw, lending him a feral air.

When she noticed the flush on his cheeks and the weary set of his mouth, she narrowed her eyes. “You okay?” she asked, closing her laptop and setting it on the coffee table.

“I think I overdid it,” he admitted. “I might have heatstroke.”

She grinned. “The big, tough Navy SEAL let the sun get to him?”

He ignored her and strode toward the corridor. “I’m taking a shower.”

After he disappeared, Jen leaned back in the recliner and stared up at the ceiling. Her grin faded, her muscles knotting with frustration. She wasn’t ready to admit defeat yet, but it was becoming glaringly obvious that Cash possessed a disgusting amount of willpower. She’d brought her A-game to the table the past couple of days, yet the infuriating man continued to resist her advances. She wasn’t sure whether to be insulted or impressed.

Still, enough was enough. She wanted Cash McCoy so badly she couldn’t think straight. Everything about him turned her on—his drool-worthy body, those intense blue eyes, the heady scent of his aftershave.

That old saying about wanting what you can’t have had become her life’s theme song. She craved Cash on a whole new level now, and the more he resisted, the more attracted to him she was. Sad, really.

“You hungry?” Cash asked when he reappeared ten minutes later.

“Not really. I’m still full from breakfast.”

“Good, because I’m too beat to deal with food right now.” With his hair damp from the shower, he crossed the room and collapsed on the couch, stretching out on his back. A groan slipped out as he closed his eyes. “My head is killing me.”

A spark of worry lit her belly. “Maybe you do have heatstroke.” She hopped off the chair and approached the couch.

Cash’s eyes flew open when she touched his cheeks. “What are you doing?” he asked hoarsely.

She frowned. “Your skin’s hot to the touch. Did you replenish your fluids?”

His eyelids fluttered closed again. “Chugged half a bottle of water when we finished up,” he mumbled.

“How strenuous of a workout?”

“Ran four miles. Swam a couple miles. Push-ups, crunches, some other stuff.”

Jen shot him an incredulous look, even though he couldn’t see it. “You did all that, in the sun, in ninety-two-degree weather, and you only drank half a bottle of water?”

“I was distracted,” he muttered.

She grumbled in frustration and flew toward the kitchen, where she grabbed two Evians from the fridge. Returning to the couch, she uncapped one bottle and thrust it at Cash. “Drink,” she ordered.

He slid up, took the bottle, and drained it. “Can I take a nap now?” he asked wearily.

“Only if you don’t complain when I wake you up to drink this second bottle.”

“I won’t complain,” he said obediently.

“How’s your head?”

“Throbbing.”

Jen shoved her hands underneath his wide shoulders. “Scoot up.”